Pour Some On
by StuffedLion
Summary: Blake has a stomachache. Yang helps. Edit: Fixed the text problem.


"Blake?"

You crack one eye open to find three worried faces staring back at you. Damn. You'd hoped to get up before they came back, so they wouldn't worry. To them you were still in recovery mode. Hell, Ruby'd made a schedule for you (with some modifications by Weiss and Yang 'to account for long-term stress as well'). Managing to uncurl yourself slightly from around her arm, you give a weak, "Hey," in reply.

"Blake, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Yang crouches down beside you, arms resting on her thighs, weight on her toes. The image of her waddling around pretending to be a duck strikes you, and you break out into giggles. This, of course, did not reassure them, and you open your mouth to do so verbally.

A pang of pain prevents that. You bite your lip to stifle the groan that threatened to come out. But they notice anyway.

"What hurts, Blake?" Ruby sits down on her heels beside Yang, lines between her eyebrows. "Did you hit something in Combat. or-"

"No, no." You shake your head, the slightest of motions. "Just a little stomachache, I think there might've been something up with the chicken…"

"I'll go and let Ozpin know," Weiss announces, marching to the door. "If he hasn't already heard of this, he'll need to." And with a swish of white, she's gone.

"Well, Princess'll take care of anything on that front," Yang says, half to herself, but turns to you with a gleam in her eye. "The question now is what to do with _you_…"

You gulp.

Ruby presses one elbow into Yang's gut, the image of tried patience. The air about her is a bit different than her normal sisterly exasperation, though. Weiss was rubbing off in more ways than one. "Scaring Blake isn't going to do anything, sis. She's actually sick. Not, uh. I-don't-wanna-go-to-school-sick."

"You're right, you're right." She scratches the back of her head, a rueful look on her face. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Flapping one hand at her, you shut your eyes. "But really, I'll be fine in the morning." It was painful, and your stomach roiled dangerously, but you could bear it. You'd gone through worse. If you did throw up, well. You could make it to the washroom. Probably.

"But you're not fine _now._ So… let us take care of you_?" _Opening your eyes reveals the pout Ruby had on, and you regret doing so instantly. It was a weapons-grade look, as the past few weeks of 'Blake recuperation time' had proved. "Please? We have something that might help."

Yang looks over at her, surprise on her face. "We do?"

The look on Ruby's face is one of exasperation and wryness. It was a decent look, aside from Ruby struggling to keep her one eyebrow raised, and the other level. "The oil, Yang, the oil!"

"Oi-oh, that." Yang's face brightens a moment, before folding into something more reserved, cautious. "Are you sure? It's not really meant for stomachaches, you know."

"Sure it's not meant for them originally, but it works right? Now go get it!" Ruby pushes Yang, gently, but insistently, short bursts of movement.

"All right, _all right,_ I'm getting it." Yang walks over to her bags, dropping to her knee, rifles through her them, muttering to herself about 'aggressive sisters'. When you try to hide your laugh, she only glances at you and winks, before standing, a pink and yellow can in hand, something clacking inside.

You eye it a little warily. "What is that?"

The one to answer is Ruby, Yang seemingly occupied by a thought that'd hit her. "Ah, it's a medicinal oil. Really good for aches and headaches and a bunch of things. Like tummy aches!" Ruby grins, before grabbing her pyjamas and jumping out, leaving you and Yang alone.

It's when the door closed behind Ruby that Yang finally looks at you. "I need you to take your vest-thingy off."

You raise your head to meet Yang's gaze, thinking you'd misheard her. "Sorry, what?"

Yang beams, wiggles the can at you. "Gotta put this on your tummy. Not gonna work just from you carrying it around like some charm."

So you hadn't misheard. "My stomach?"

She shifts about, her feet never leaving the floor, the smile fading slightly. "If you don't want me to put it on, I can just tell you how. Up to you."

"No! No." Clearing your throat, you smile back, meaning to reassure her. "You just caught me off-guard, is all. Just…"

You didn't finish, but there's a moment, of confusion and apprehension, then a light; her face settles, as solemn as you'd ever seen her. "Promise to be careful." She uncaps the can, fingers fishing inside it moment before pulling out a smaller glass bottle, about three quarters full of a dark brown liquid. Interestingly a small, stained-brown cloth piece sits half-stuck in the neck, the other half poking out.

"Does it not have a cap?" You ask, jerking your thumb at it after you manage to push yourself up.

"What, this? Well me 'nd Ruby lost it, awhile ago. So we just keep that in it, make sure we keep it upright. Now!" She pulls the cloth out, tossing it and the can onto one of her bags in one smooth motion. "Let's see to your gut." Oddly enough, she offers it for you to sniff first. Some of your confusion must've shown, because she explains, without any other apparent prompting. "Short-term but fast-working way to not feeling like you're gonna throw your lunch up. Usually just keeps ya long enough for the 'second application' to work its magic."

You regard her carefully, and once you see that she wasn't just pulling your leg, you accept it, lean in, and sniff.

The scent has you nearly flinching away, just as it draws you in. A heady scent, no flimsy thing. Stinging at your nose, but in a pleasant manner. You think there might've been peppermint present, but a 'bigger' scent mars your certainty, a scent somewhat familiar, but from where, you don't know. One thing was certain: if you'd a stuffy nose or a headache, it would've cleared it quite nicely.

"Wow." You hand it back to her, thoroughly impressed.

She beams again, a triumphant look, and asks, "Feel any better?"

"Actually… yes." Looking at your stomach, then her, you add, "You better get some more of that sometime for me."

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Blakey." She chuckles, before sitting on your bed. "Now, off with the vest." A wink. "Or I could take it off for you?"

"Thank you, but no thank you." Wryly smiling, you undo the buttons that kept your vest wrapped around you, baring your midriff to the cool air. Which doesn't help your stomach at all. With it bubbling a little dangerously, you wrap your arms around you, as if to physically restrain it.

It doesn't do much good.

Yang's hand landing gently on the elbow closest to her, however, does. It at least distracts you from the potential danger, hands a comforting warmth, welcome what with the chill that settled when you'd started feeling ill.

Yang was just that sort of person, you muse quietly, wonderful at keeping away the less pleasant things.

"I'll be fast, then you can cover up again," she says, eyes solemn, the corners of her mouth up to reassure. When you nod, she taps the mouth of the bottle in the palm of her hand, before leaning down to put the bottle by one foot of the bed, presumably. A little laugh leaves you when you see she'd left one hand, the one holding the oil, where it was in terms of space, as if it's a pivot for her movement. Her head pops up, an inquisitive look on her face, but it settles on simple amusement when you shake your head. She rubs her hands together, spreading the oil around from palm to fingers and thumbs, and when that's done to apparent satisfaction, lays them both on you, slow and gentle.

Your first impression is 'surprisingly cold', and you tense slightly, before breathing deep and relaxing yourself. Even with the distance, you can catch its scent. It helps.

"It'll warm up quick," Yang murmurs, rubbing little circles around, focused on the skin nearest to your belly button. Maybe-it was hard to tell-a little too careful about not drifting too high or too low. "That's what it does. Cool then warm. Got lots of uses."

"I can imagine." Closing your eyes, you hum quietly, enjoying the sensation of Yang's warmth. She was good with her hands, the right mix of lightness and firmness so that actually did something, and something positive. "You must be good at massages."

Pride colours her response, even as she keeps rubbing it. "I am master of massages. Though, I don't think you're fit for one right now."

"Fine. Later." She laughs.

All too soon, Yang's hands leaves your skin, and you're left feeling a little adrift and cold, until your vest flops on top of you. "Put that back on," she orders, sliding the bottle back into the can after sealing it, then putting the lid back on that. "If that doesn't make you feel better, let me know. I've got a few other things."

"Are they all that nice?"

"No." She gives you a grin, all teeth. "They're much, much worse."

In spite of the threat, you return the look. "I won't worry too much about them."

Winking, she grabs her pyjamas and replies, "Then I won't either."

"Yang?"

She stops on her way to the door, only a few steps from you, turns. "Yeah, Blake?"

"Thanks."

For a moment, there's no reply. But then she moves, a few quick steps to standing beside you.

And then she kisses you, on your brow.

Rising from her kneeling position, she gives you an affectionate pat, backing away and out while you just stare at her in mild bewilderment. The happiness on her face spreads itself out, dimpling her cheeks, but she maintains her course out. Her words float back to you as she spins to open the door, and ready for bed.

"Anytime, Blake. Anytime."


End file.
